


Skeletons in the Suitcase

by aurilly



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/pseuds/aurilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A take on what might have happened had Shannon been part of the group that moved into Dharmaville in the 1970s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skeletons in the Suitcase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ozmissage](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ozmissage).



“What can I do to convince you to follow us to Saint Tropez? Etienne will be miserable without his nanny. I will be miserable without you.”

“Um…”

Shannon’s trying to think of a way to tell Jean-Paul that she can’t go to Saint Tropez without sounding like a complete lunatic. She can’t go because she doesn’t have a passport, and even if she did, it would say she was born ten years from now. She can’t go because, if she does, she’ll definitely have to sleep with him, which means she’ll no longer be able to continue irrationally saving herself for a boyfriend who might as well be dead. She can’t go because it’s _Saint Tropez_, for fuck’s sake. It would be too much like her first life, a true denial that anything had happened or changed or mattered. And even though Shannon’s been having conflicting feelings about what she wants her life to be, one thing is certain: things have definitely changed. For starters, it’s 1974, and after six months on the mainland, Shannon’s finally coming to terms with the fact that acting like her 2003 self is no longer appropriate or fun.

Not that she can actually _say_ any of that, of course.

“Please, Shannon. The south of France is mille fois preferable to San Francisco in the spring,” Jean-Paul pleads, and squeezes her shoulder in the disgustingly suggestive way she’s been letting him get away with as of late. She doesn’t know how she ended up here again. Before, in her old life that not only feels, but _is_, so far away, all this seduction and conning and bullshit had made her feel strong and in control---like she was sticking it to someone and sticking up for herself. Now it just feels twisted and dirty and pathetic.

If there were any other way to move on and take care of herself, she’d be on it, but with no papers, no money, no _existence_ (not to mention no memory of stock market stuff), this is pretty much Shannon’s only option.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice asks, coming to her rescue and buying her time before she has to answer. Shannon turns around to see a good-looking blond guy in a white shirt and jeans. His voice is so soft that Jean-Paul doesn’t notice the interruption, and keeps walking. “Can you tell me where the museum is?”

“Sure,” she says. “Which one are you looking for?” Just then, there’s a horrible screech and a sickeningly wet thud. Shannon and the stranger turn around to see Jean-Paul lying in the middle of the road, bloody and gross. The car that mauled him slowly comes to a stop down the block, and the driver jumps out, horrified at what he’s done.

“Oh my god,” Shannon murmurs, and it’s not because she’s upset about Jean-Paul. He was sketchy, short-tempered, and an all-around dick. Shannon’s had too many nice people die on her to bother mourning for someone like him. What _is_ worrying her, however, is that, whether or not they’re actually on their way, Shannon can hear the police cars in her head, coming with questions and background checks. So much for keeping a low profile. And so much for her room and board.

“I’m so sorry,” the stranger says.

“I’m so fucked,” she babbles absently, letting her guard down more than she should around this random man.

That’s when he takes her hand. Shannon feels an odd jolt as he does it, and it’s the jolt rather than the creepiness of a stranger holding her hand that makes her pull her eyes away from the body towards him. He deposits a wad of cash into her palm and a bus ticket to Santa Cruz, of all places. “It leaves in two hours.”

Shannon stares down at the paper in her hand. “What? What’s this for?”

“To help you get home. You’re in trouble and this was my fault.” He starts walking away, and sure enough, Shannon can now hear the police sirens for real.

“Thanks?” she says, not sure if she should protest or go with him or what. It doesn’t matter though, because within seconds, he’s disappeared into the crowd.

“Hey, miss! Come and help!”

Already, pedestrians who saw the accident are looking at her, expecting her to go up to the body or start crying or helping or _something_, given that she’d been walking with the victim in a way that looked intimate. Shannon shocks them by taking off at a run, practically rolling down the steep San Francisco sidewalks. People yell at her as she goes, but they can’t catch up with her at this speed.

_It’s over, it’s so over,_ she thinks in a loop as she flees.

She should be devastated, but honestly, all Shannon feels is relief.

***

The weird thing about the stranger is not his incorrect assumption that her home is in Santa Cruz. What’s weird is his correct assumption that the _way_ home is through Santa Cruz. Even weirder is Shannon’s resignation that he’s right: she doesn’t want the island to be home, but it is, and how he could possibly have known that is a mystery to add to the millions already whirling around her.

And weirdest of all is the fact that, once she’s gotten off the bus and asked questions at the Santa Cruz docks, she realizes that the guy gave her just about the right amount of money to get her through a week of good living---and one week is how long she has to wait for the sub crew to return from their mainland errands and head back to the island.

It’s almost as though he meant for this to happen. For a day or so, she wonders if maybe he was some kind of covert Dharma guy, but then she tells herself he couldn’t be; no one in the world wants her for any reason at all, much less badly enough to go through all that cryptic trouble.

Since she’s definitely outgrown whoring herself out like she used to, Shannon’s spent most of the past six months totally broke and getting by on whatever babysitting jobs she could get, because babysitters don’t usually need papers. Jean-Paul had been the only one that had turned into a semi-stable, long-term arrangement, and she’s pretty sure that only happened because she’d finally broken down and let him think he had a chance with her. So, she writes the blond stranger off as a coincidence, and decides to enjoy the good life while she can. She spends the rest of the week doing stuff she knows she won’t be able to where she’s going, and hasn’t been able to do since _Australia_, 30 years from now: shopping, eating out, getting her nails done. It’s glorious.

So, when the sub finally arrives, Shannon’s in as decent a mood as someone who’s going back to Craphole Island can be. She waltzes down the dock with a suitcase full of high-end drug store products and cosmetics, an easy-maintenance new haircut, sexy sunglasses, and a new pair of hiking boots (she’s not about to get caught with nothing hike-appropriate like the first time; all the running-for-her-life she’d done in her last days on the island would have been a lot less hellacious had she packed for it in Sydney).

Shannon spots the captain from her first trip. He’s checking in a short line of people who look nervous and excited at the same time. Shannon figures they must be new recruits, and doesn’t know who to pity more: the poor saps who don’t know what they’re getting into, or pathetic people like herself who are walking in with eyes wide open.

She waits until he’s just finished processing the last person and then approaches him with her most charming smile. “Hey Joe, got room for one more?”

Joe’s face lights up upon recognizing her, and Shannon comes _this_ close to hugging the ugly old seaman because, after six months of knowing no one except her asshole employers and their soon to be fucked-up kids, she’s almost forgotten what it’s like for someone to look happy to see her. “Shannon! Sure, I have room for you. You know, Jim LaFleur and I had a bet about whether or not you’d be back. Guess I owe him a six-pack.”

“Yeah, well… I guess I got bored,” she explains lamely, her mind wandering. ‘Jim LaFleur’ is already on friendly enough terms with people to be making bets for beer. Shannon wonders what else she’s missed and how long it’ll take her to catch up.

Joe takes her suitcase and adds it to the pile. “That all the luggage you got, sweetheart?”

“I travel light these days.”

“You know, I brought Daniel Faraday over on my last trip. He was one of your crew, wasn’t he?”

Shannon’s surprised. The last time she saw Daniel, he’d been suffering from such bad PTSD that he spent most of his time shaking and crying and clutching his mullet. “Yeah, he was. What did he come for?”

“The higher-ups sent him to Ann Arbor to work on the latest research.”

Oh. Well, whatever. Shannon doesn’t consider being a Dharma lab monkey on a freezing cold college campus in the Midwest any different from being on the island. “That’s nice,” she replies politely. “He should like that.”

“Well, come on in.” Joe hands her a small container of juice. “You know the drill.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

Shannon gulps down her drugs and takes one last look at the mainland before climbing into the sub. Given that she’s in the shitty port area of a fourth-tier city, there isn’t anything worth saying goodbye to.

So much for her great experiment. There was her old life, which, even though she had been too stupid to see it at the time, had fallen apart when she’d sunk to sleeping with her brother. Then there was the ‘new’ life she’d started with Sayid. That had been surprisingly perfect---crazy island camping aside---but he was gone and so was the freaking _decade_. Life number three, here in 1973, had been an outright disaster.

Shannon doesn’t have super high hopes for ‘Take Four, Island Redux, Hippie Edition’, but oh well.

Wistfully, she wonders how Sayid and the others are finding… will find… some complicated grammatical construction… life back in the real world, 2005 edition. She wonders if it’s just as shitty for them. She wonders if they’ll---he’ll---end up coming back to the island, just like her. She wonders…

She doesn’t get to finish wondering, because she’s out before she even reaches the bunk room.

***

Shannon isn’t looking forward to this. She’s still too groggy from the drugs to be up for all the ‘I told you so’s she knows are headed her way. And she’s definitely not up for Sawyer’s nicknames or hippie Dharma cult bullshit or the things the humidity will do to her hair. But it’s not like she has a choice. The past few months have taught her that much. When you don’t exist yet, it’s best to stay in the one place where time pretty much stands still. And where everybody knows your name, etc etc. cheesy bullshit like that. Although knowing her name is basically it; everyone she’d gotten close to had either died, left, or disappeared. The people she's returning to aren’t really friends---Sawyer was an asshole for most of their acquaintance, Jin’s been vetted by virtue of being Sun’s husband but the language barrier kept them from ever having a conversation, Juliet turned out to be okay but it’ll still take awhile to get the Other stink off her, and that Miles guy is just flat-out weird---but they’re all she has.

Hopefully they’ll still be interested in having her.

With Joe’s assistance, Shannon climbs out of the sub, and there it is, in all of its gorgeous, fucked-up glory: Mystery Friggin’ Island. Aka, The Worst Place On Earth.

_Home._

Maybe if she’s _really_ lucky, there’ll be a monster attack to celebrate her arrival.

“Shannon?” she hears.

Juliet’s there, decked out in a Dharma jumpsuit that says “Motor Pool” on it and hauling luggage into one of the VW vans. Shannon shivers to think of what employment and sartorial horrors lay in store for her.

Her fears of being forgotten and unwanted are instantly quelled, because Juliet moves quickly and wraps her in the kind of hug Shannon’s been craving every minute since Sayid left. Juliet doesn’t _look_ nearly as glad to see her as Joe did, but Shannon reminds herself that Juliet rarely looks much of _anything_. With that limited a range of facial movement, Juliet won’t need botox for like, ever.

“It’s good to have you back, Shannon,” Juliet says, with more genuine kindness than Shannon deserves, not after the crap she’d defensively shouted at all of them when they were trying to dissuade her from leaving.

“I can’t say it’s great to _be_ back, but it’s nice to see you again.”

Juliet breaks into a wry smile (still without moving most of her face, though, Shannon notes). “So, I guess the real world wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, huh?”

“Not really. If there’s anything to make you miss the 80s, it’s the 70s. Trust me,” Shannon replies. Her voice shakes just enough that she knows Juliet can see right through her bravado. However, Shannon appreciates the way Juliet lets it pass.

“Well, I’m glad one of us tried it.” Something in Juliet’s voice makes Shannon look harder at her. There’s a hint of wistfulness in her eyes, but she really does seem okay---way happier than she’d been when Shannon had left. Maybe no longer being held captive by the Others or shot at with flaming arrows or dying of time traveling nosebleed would make anyone happier. Perhaps that same sense of calm with a little bit of wistfulness is what is in store for Shannon.

If so, that might not be so bad.

Juliet seems to sense what Shannon is thinking, and smiles encouragingly. “Things are good here. You’ll see.”

The other new recruits are milling around them, so Shannon has to change the subject. “So, what did I miss?”

***

It turns out she hasn’t missed very much, even though some things have changed. The guys have all been placed in the security department, which Shannon finds funny, because Sawyer as a security guard is just asking for trouble. No, wait, ‘James’. It’s going to take Shannon awhile to get used to his new name. And Jin’s English has improved to a conversational level, which makes seeing him again sort of like meeting him for the first time. Juliet fervently _doesn’t_ want to be a doctor anymore, which on the one hand, Shannon can understand after all the pregnancy stuff, but on the other hand… ew. Car grease.

And Miles… well, Miles is still weird.

Juliet calls in on the walkies to let Jin know Shannon’s come back, so the whole gang is there to greet her when the van pulls up to the orientation building. The new recruits gape at her, wondering who this super-special girl with the personal welcome posse is. Shannon eats up the attention. It’s already not so bad being back.

Since she wasn’t expected, there isn’t a job waiting for her. Shannon secretly hopes it can stay that way, but it’s wishful thinking. The last couple of batches of recruits have brought a lot of kids with them, and Olivia’s swamped in the classroom. After pretending not to look down her shirt, Horace asks if Shannon would be interested in an Assistant Teacher position. Shannon’s as thrilled as she can be at the thought of a nine-to-five. The only thing she’s ever been decent at is taking care of kids. And at least it isn’t the Motor Pool.

There’s some switching around of the housing situation to make room for everyone who’s come on the sub, and also to address some in-camp developments. For example, Shannon finds out that the sparks she saw flying (and which she’s pretty sure deprived her of a traveling companion six months ago) have exploded into a full-fledged relationship between Juliet and Sawyer. They’re moving in together, which means there’s a room free. Shannon is told to take Juliet’s old room in a house with Rosie, whom she’s never met before. She drags her suitcase to house #31 and unpacks, hiding her goodies underneath her clothes and in the top reaches of her closet. There’s no way she’s sharing her brand-name Tampax or fancy face wash with anyone. Well, maybe with Juliet, but definitely not some stranger.

There’s a Dharma-wide celebration that night, with a bonfire and a boar and Dharma beer and everything. Shannon finds it all a huge yawn, and not nearly as fun as the boar parties Locke and Hurley used to throw. Her crew gathers by the swings for some gossip. Shannon asks if it’ll look suspicious to everyone else, but Miles assures her that everyone’s used to them being cliquish by now, and hands her a beer.

“I don’t drink beer,” she scoffs.

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Why’d you come back?” Sawyer asks, getting down to business.

“Things weren’t working out,” she replies. “I’m technically not even real, so it was hard to, you know, start over.”

“You should’ve listened to me, Princess,” he scolds, but not nastily, Shannon’s happy to note. “Any sign of Locke?”

This is the bugaboo that has never made any sense to her: why Sawyer is so convinced that they have to ‘wait’ for Locke. When there’s time travel, there shouldn’t be any waiting. If Locke could have come back, he would have, immediately. Plus, he fell down a well and the ground closed up over him. Shannon isn’t sure where he’s supposed to be coming back _from_. What makes even less sense is Sawyer’s belief that Locke will bring all their friends back. Helicopters can’t fly very far, especially with a leaking gas tank, so after the freighter blew up, the only place they could have landed was the island, 30 years from now. How are they supposed to a) meet up with Locke and b) get to 1974? But Shannon isn’t capable of articulating all this. Time travel makes her head hurt. So instead, she simply says, “No.”

And that’s the closest they come to making her talk about it. The past six months are better left forgotten.

***

Except for the jumpsuits, life in Dharmaville isn’t all bad, and fairly soon, Shannon’s fallen into a decent rhythm. It helps that she never came to this part of the island in 2004, and that she never goes anywhere near Midsection Beach here in the 70s. It’s almost like there are two islands, one for each time period.

The kids are pretty cute, and since Olivia does most of the heavy lifting in the classroom, Shannon’s job is mostly to do arts and crafts projects with the littlest ones, help out when there’s a glut of grading, and provide extra tutoring to anyone who’s having a hard time. In any other situation, Shannon would have laughed at the idea of herself---someone who never even got to go to college---teaching anybody anything, but it’s actually working out.

After awhile, she even manages to stop staring around baby Charlotte and baby Ben Linus.

On the home front, Rosie’s… fine. She seems sweet, but Shannon can spot a phony bitch a mile away. They’re always polite, but not close. Shannon doesn’t care that Rosie’s always bringing her group of hippie stoner friends over to hang out in the house, but she never smokes herself. She can’t afford to get a case of the munchies. With all the meals they are fed, she’s no longer able to maintain her 2004 Atkins and fruit laxative beach diet. Plus, she misses her walks down the beach with Sun every morning; in the enclosed space of the Barracks, there isn’t much opportunity for exercise. She doesn’t want her bulimia to come back (Sayid had gently gotten her out of it), but she also doesn’t want to get fat. When Shannon puts in a request for a treadmill and a stationary bike, the guys in the Procurement Department ask her why she wants such new-fangled equipment, but they promise to see what they can do.

Although she makes nice with her roommate, with her work mate, and with almost everyone else, Shannon isn’t close to any of the Dharma people. She tells herself it’s because they don’t _get_ it; they haven’t lived through the 80s or the 90s. They haven’t experienced the wonders of cell phones and fat-free froyo and Brad Pitt. She doesn’t know what to say to them. But even though, yes, that’s part of it, deep down, Shannon knows that’s bullshit. The real issue is that she’s scared to get close to yet another person who will leave her, no matter how many promises they might make to the contrary or how beyond their control situations might become. It’s different with her 2004 pals; they may not have much in common, but the fact that they flashed together when other people didn’t means they’re bound together in some magical island way. Sawyer, Jin, Juliet, and Miles couldn’t leave her even if they wanted to. And that’s reassuring.

So, she’s kind of lonely, but as the days go by and turn into years, she gets used more and more used to it.

In some respects, life in the Dharma Initiative isn’t that different from life on the beach. For one thing, she still has a crapload of free time. All jobs, including the school, go from nine to four. There’s nothing to do in the evenings, so she joins Juliet and Sawyer’s book club. They’re the only three members. Jin’s an honorary, and gets special reading assignments. Sometimes they gossip about the people they used to know. As they put their heads together---and especially as Jin’s English improves enough for him to add more to the conversations---it’s amazing how much they’re able to put together. It doesn’t help them solve the great time traveling mystery, but at least it’s diverting.

Sawyer may be popular with the higher-ups in a professional capacity, but Miles is the only one who successfully straddles both social groups: Dharma and time travelers. He and Shannon don’t talk that much when it’s only their gang, because Miles is pretty quiet and hangs on Sawyer’s every word in this really intense way that Shannon doesn’t understand, because, come on, Sawyer isn’t _that_ interesting. However, he visits Shannon’s house all the time as part of Rosie’s hippie stoner club, and, without Sawyer around, he opens up, spending most of his visits talking to Shannon rather than the people he’s supposedly there to hang out with.

Shannon still finds him weird, but, as the months pass, she gets used to him. He’s laid-back and smart and, when Rosie’s crew is over, he likes to say things with a futuristic double meaning only Shannon will understand. She cracks up every time. Even though she’s doing all right, real laughter is still hard to come by these days, so she appreciates his efforts. Miles doesn’t smoke nearly as much weed as the rest of them, which she’s thankful for, because it’s never fun being the only stone-cold sober person in the room.

One night, though, despite brooding in her room while the party rages, the smoke gets to be way too much for her. Shannon starts wheezing for the first time in almost two years, and the inhalers she bought at the drug store in Santa Cruz have all expired. She staggers into the living room and out the front door. No one even notices. No one except Miles, that is. Shannon slips out of the house, feeling pretty sure she can reach the nurse’s station before it gets too bad. She sees Miles dash ahead of her, and wonders where he’s going. He’s back with an inhaler before she’s even gotten halfway to her destination. Together, they make their way to the nearest building, and Shannon collapses on the porch.

“Thanks,” she says, as soon as the medicine begins working and she can speak again.

“You know, if it’s making you sick, you should tell them to stop smoking. It’s your house, too.”

Shannon shrugs. “I’m done with having everyone hate me.”

“They’re too stoned to hate you. Trust me. The shit they’re smoking is practically weapons-grade.”

Shannon laughs, which sets off another set of wheezing. “Don’t… do… that,” she gasps.

“Yeah, I’ve been told my sense of humour is lethal,” he deadpans. “I guess this is the proof.”

“Stop!” Shannon giggles, and slaps him on the arm. She’s still hovering on the brink of an attack, and he isn’t helping one bit. He rubs her back, in little circles that don’t do anything to stop the asthma, but it makes her feel warm and cared for, which helps in a different way.

“Better now?” he asks, when she’s finally calmed down.

“Yeah.” She looks up at Miles, and it’s as though she’s seeing him for the first time. He isn’t her type, not at all, but there’s something attractive about him anyway. Apparently that’s her type now: attractive but not handsome. Sayid had been like that, too...

It’s irrational, but she feels as though if she doesn’t hook up with Miles right this minute, she going to burst into tears, and, given that she’s still coming off an attack, that would probably be a bad thing.

So hooking up it is.

Miles watches her lean in to kiss him, and Shannon assumes it’ll all go according to plan, but he surprises her by pushing her away. “Woah there. I'm sure I'll kill myself in the morning for being so stupid, but right now I've gotta say that I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Shannon’s mood flips in an instant. She’s never been rejected before. Not even by her own _brother_, for fuck’s sake. Who does this twerp think he is? “Why not?” she spits, covering her humiliation with rage.

“Look, you’re hot and everything, but I've met your boyfriend, and he is one of the scarier motherfuckers I’ve ever known. If he ever gets back and finds out that I touched his girl… Well, let’s just say that I enjoy my fingernails the way they are.”

Shannon leans in closer. It’s funny, because she isn’t even sure she _wants_ Miles. But he’s there, he’s fun, he’s from her time period, he’s kinda sexy in certain lighting, and he never takes it the wrong way when something comes out bitchier than intended. Shannon needs _something _right now, and he's by far the best option. So she whispers seductively into his ear, “On the off chance that Sayid ever comes back, I’ll deal with him. He won’t touch you. I swear.”

“Well…” It’s working. Hell, it’s _biology_. He’s a man and she’s a hot girl who’s coming on to him. Shannon goes in to kiss him again, and this time he lets her. He tastes like marijuana, which almost makes her gag, but something desperate has been awakened in her, and she can’t stop. And Miles’s reservations are clearly gone, because he’s practically eating her face.

Soon, they’re getting a little too hot and heavy for a porch in the middle of town. “Uh, I’m pretty sure Jin’s asleep, if you wanna…” Miles sputters.

“Yeah.”

Miles is semi-stoned and Shannon’s still remembering how to breathe, so they trip over one another’s feet like a couple of pathetic gimps as they scramble across the lawn. “Shhhh,” Miles says as he slowly pushes his front door open. The house is dark, and Shannon almost trips over Jin’s boots in the entryway, but for the most part, they make it to Miles’s room without incident.

They’re both too out of it to take their time and make it sensual and bullshit like that, but Shannon wants it that way. She wants the lights off and she doesn’t want him to talk. Thankfully, Miles appears to be on the same page, because he strips without a word and takes her hand to lead her through the dark and into the bed.

It isn’t bad, but it isn’t great, either. After they’re done, Shannon and Miles slump side by side, watching the overhead fan spin and hum as they very consciously do not touch.

A sob escapes her before she can choke it down. Miles turns to look at her, and there’s just enough moonlight streaming through the window for him to see the tears running down her face. “I didn’t think it was _that_ bad,” he tries to joke.

“No. I’m just… it was fine. Seriously. I needed that.”

“Well, _there’s_ a ringing endorsement.” Shannon can tell from the tone of his voice that he’s still only joking. He gets it. He thankfully leaves her alone after that, rolling over and going to sleep.

His alarm wakes her up the next morning. “Fuck,” she mutters, jumping out of bed and grabbing her clothes from the floor. “Why is your alarm set for 8:30?” she bitches.

Miles is still half-asleep. “I dunno. What time should I have set it for?” he asks, rubbing his eyes and obviously trying to remember what she’s doing in his bed.

“Like, 7:30? I’m going to be so late. Where the fuck are my shoes?”

She’s too rushed and he’s too asleep for there to be any awkwardness. Thank god. Miles just stares at her as she kneels down on the floor and checks under the bed. “Did you find them?”

“Ugh. Yes. Gotta go.” Shannon doesn’t kiss him goodbye or anything---whatever this is, it isn’t that kind of thing. She just stumbles out of his room, hoping there’s enough time to get home, shower, and get to work on time.

She all but collides with Jin in the hallway. Her shoelaces are untied and she’s sporting some amazing sex goddess hair, so there’s pretty much no way he can misinterpret what’s going on here. He doesn’t say anything as she heads out, but the look of sadness he gives her is worse than anything he could have said. His eyes say it all: that he’s now the only one left who hasn’t tried to move on, that he's embarrassed about being the fifth wheel, that he's worried that he’s holding onto something that’s gone forever.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. She wants to tell him that they’re still in the same boat, that she’s still just as lost and heartbroken as he is.

But… she’s running late for work.

***

It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but somehow it happens again. And again. First a month later when Shannon and Miles end up wasted together at a screening of Jaws. It’s all so dated that they burst out of the hall, falling over one another in laughter and into Shannon's bedroom. Then again one night when she’s bored because James and Juliet don’t answer the door at book club time (Shannon can hear them fucking through the window). And then a third time, Miles calls her to the security station while he’s on night duty, just for shits and giggles.

After that, they stop looking for reasons.

It never gets mushy, and, even though they aren’t seeing anyone else, they aren’t technically exclusive. They’re simply scratching an itch. That’s all Shannon wants, and she’s glad Miles is happy with that. They’re friends more than anything else. Shannon’s favorite part is the joking that comes beforehand.

Except for when they’re somewhere vaguely and dangerously and thrillingly public, they always go to Shannon’s house. Even though he knows perfectly well what’s going on, Shannon can’t stomach another morning-after encounter with Jin.

Everyone else takes it pretty well. Juliet finds it hilarious and Sawyer takes to calling her Janine, and sometimes Dana. Miles laughs, but Shannon doesn’t get the reference.

It doesn’t matter, though. Time passes on, and this new development works its way into her life rhythm. Shannon thinks back to the day she got out of the sub, and the way she’d found herself hoping to find some calm, despite all the sadness.

She thinks she’s finally achieved that.

***

There’s just one thing, though...

“Hey, do you see that?” Shannon says as she and Miles are walking to her house one evening.

“See what?”

“A man. In a white shirt. Over there in the bushes, watching us.” She points and Miles peers into the darkening forest.

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, you talk to dead people. So… do you really want to start lecturing me on what’s crazy?”

“Okay, you win. But no, I don’t see anything. Who is it? Someone you know?”

Miles can’t see him, but Shannon still does. It's the man who sent her back here. However, this would hardly be the first time she’s had hallucinations, so she shrugs. “Nah. My eyes were probably playing tricks on me. Or maybe it was an Other.”

Miles clearly doesn’t believe her, and they both know it can’t be Others because the fence is on, but he doesn’t press the issue. They keep walking, but just before they enter the house, Shannon turns back and mouths ‘thank you’ in the direction of where she last saw him.

***

Another day, another submarine arrival. Phil had assured her that the exercise equipment was finally arriving (two and a half years after she put in the request). Shannon wonders how long until they invent Walkmen, so that she can run and listen to music at the same time.

It’s hot as fuck, and Olivia’s out sick, so Shannon is in charge of the entire classroom. However, after a couple of years of doing this, she’s gotten the hang of being a teacher. Everything’s going fine until she hears a commotion in the central yard. She tries to ignore it, but the kids can’t, so she decides the only way to calm them down is to investigate. “Hold on,” she says, and gets up to look outside.

What she sees is the most impossible thing ever… and coming from her, that’s saying a lot. Jack, Kate, and Hurley are standing there next to James, decked out in Dharma jumpsuits as if they’ve been there the whole time. Before she even knows what she’s doing, she’s walking out of the school building to make sure she’s seeing right (though how anyone could mistake Hurley for anything except himself is beyond her), leaving the kids inside and unsupervised.

Then that asshole Radzinsky pulls someone out of the van, and Shannon’s heart stops.

Sayid looks like _ass_. Kind of paunchy in the tum, and with suspect facial hair, and that purple shirt needs to be burned… Even worse is the way he seems so _dead_, like all the life force has been taken out of him. Sayid had had more life force than anyone she’d ever known. But oh god, it’s him and he’s here and he’s _now,_ just when Shannon was finally starting to get used to the idea that she’d never see him again. She has no idea what’s going on, or why Radzinsky’s manhandling him, or why Sayid is _letting_ himself be manhandled, but she doesn’t care.

“Shannon, get back in the school. There’s nothing to see here. Just taking an Other into custody,” she hears James bark at her. It’s enough to snap her into stillness. James's face is a mask of panic, but Shannon feels nothing but happiness.

Having heard her name, Sayid begins casting his eyes about, and his whole face lights up upon seeing her. Whew. So, not _totally_ dead inside. They finish hauling him downstairs into the security station and out of sight, but the last thing she sees is him breaking into a smile.

Miles catches Shannon’s eye and makes a gesture towards his fingernails that she interprets as, “Time to keep your promise and keep me not tortured.” She gives him a thumbs up and her eyes drift down to his belt where he keeps his security keychain. “Yes,” she says to herself, getting an idea.

He sees where her eyes have wandered, and knows what she's thinking. As soon as she’s looked up at his face again, he mouths, “Oh no you don’t.”

She just winks evilly.

Miles clasps his forehead, and Shannon giggles to herself. He’s too far away, but she can almost hear him saying, “I’m so screwed” to himself. She puts a finger to her lips to make sure he doesn’t say anything to the others. He nods and she goes back to the school building.

“Life number five, here I come,” she whispers as she heads back in to take charge of her dissolved classroom.


End file.
